


Puppy Love: More Than One Type Of Ship

by boxbubble



Series: Puppy Love [4]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: mcfassy, Crack, Crossover, Interspecies, Kittens, M/M, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxbubble/pseuds/boxbubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU McFassy starring Kitty!Michael and Puppy!James.</p><p>Life on set. UST abounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Love: More Than One Type Of Ship

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses.
> 
> Originally posted on the McFassy Comm [here](http://mcfassy.livejournal.com/73319.html#cutid1) re-edited version for archive in AO3.
> 
> So… Kippy slash. Yea. This is a sickness guyz.

  
Erik advances a rook and captures a pawn while Charles reaches for his glass of scotch. Rolling the piece in his palm, Erik’s long fingers brush the thin skin of Charles’ wrist. Distracted Charles’ gives a heated smile at the lust filled gaze directed at him.

Michael resists the urge to hurl a hairball.

He has never truly appreciated before the sheer amount of eye fucking and flirting one can squeeze in between endless rounds of “Chess.” Not that he can talk really since his relationship with James seems to be permanently stuck in that nebulous best buds region between sniffing each others crotches and rabid 69ing.

Michael wants to take James aside and tell him that his tongue is covered in thousands of tiny bristles and it’s long enough that he can lick his own eyelid. Seriously he’s got skills, a veritable multitude of versatile and important talents and there’s nothing more he would like to do than to show James all the advantages of having a cat for a boyfriend. But the possibility of James’ befuddled head tilt as a response makes him want to go and hang himself with the window blinds, that or crawl into a dark shoebox someplace to die in miserable peace.

James has some serious junk in his pint sized trunk that the excitable pup Never. Stops. Wagging. And Michael is so frustrated by this fact that he’s almost willing to get himself fixed, if only to have some relief from his perpetual case of blue balls.

Just thinking about James’ little waddling gait is enough to make him accidentally walk off countertops (Vaughn wanted him brought to a vet to have his inner ear checked after a particularly nasty spill off the Caspartina, although who knew James was such a good swimmer?). If given even half the chance he'd hit that so hard Zoe would need the garden hose to separate the two.

His reverie is broken by the soft curse that rings out as Charles clumsily spills some of his drink into his own lap. Face flushed, he spreads his legs wide while fretfully trying to pat the area dry with some cocktail napkins. Erik who is downing his third martini at the time, chokes as he ends up swallowing the olive, toothpick and all.

Immediately rushing to his side, and nearly tripping over the small table holding their ongoing game, Charles attempts an awkward combination of CPR (if CPR involved drunkenly trying to suck an obstruction from someone’s windpipe) and the Heimlich maneuver on Erik, whose face is slowly turning purple.

Vaguely Michael supposes he should be concerned about whether his acting partner will live, but mostly he’s just bitter that humans have alcohol to lubricate their interactions.

Delicately licking and smoothing a paw over his ear while the EMT’s try to avoid looking at the unfortunately placed, distinct wet spot on Charles’ trousers and Erik is being taken, passed out on a stretcher, to the ambulance. Michael decides he’ll have to be a gentleman and proceed with a proper courtship if he wants his relationship with James to advance from its current state of friendship into full on furship.

-

The first time James wakes up with a dead mouse on his cushion he yelps in a tone so high he’s sure only other dogs are able to hear it and promptly runs out of the bed straight into the trailer wall. By the fourth time James is sure his brains are bruised from repeated run-ins with the metal siding and that it’s probably all Michael’s fault.

It’s bewildering and if James didn’t know better he’d say that Michael was trying to bully him.

Charles on the other hand is by turns disgusted and charmed by the little “gifts,” updating the situation to Erik daily, much to their mutual enjoyment. But James is certain that it’s a cry for help.

Michael has been looking out of sorts lately and with all the fretting over the mini Magneto costume (James doesn’t envy him, he himself got away with a simple wheelscooter design penned in for the ending sequences) it was only a matter of time before he had a nervous breakdown.

He thinks back to all the strange posturing and looks Michael has been throwing his way, and resolves to be nicer. Maybe give him the newer end of his chewtoy when they go out later.

-

When offered the slightly less salivated on portion of James favorite bone while waiting for Mystique and Raven to get out of makeup (the American Curl was horrified at the thought of being air brushed blue but eventually caved at being offered all you can eat sushi), Michael is ecstatic. He knows he should be grossed out but he’s too busy being pleased by the sentiment behind James’ offer, and is absolutely sure now that all his hard work is finally paying off.

As he admires the tiny, slightly snaggle-toothed doggy bites on the rawhide, James beams at his obvious show of pleasure, and Michael thinks that it’s just about time for phase two.

-

It seems that odd cat, Michael, has finally decided to stop leaving presents for James. The poor fellow was about to get a complex about his pet bed so it’s probably for the best.

Charles had noticed the distinct lack of mice around set and had become slightly worried when he saw the large savannah cat begin eying the sparrows. But as much as he’s glad that he doesn’t have to clean up another of Michael’s little love tokens, he can’t help but think it was also rather sweet of him.

When the yowling serenade begins at three AM the next morning, Charles is considerably less forgiving of Michael’s rendition of "C'est L'amour."

**Author's Note:**

> American Curl's are medium sized cats. An extremely new breed known for their distinctive curled ears due to a spontaneous mutation (haha) occurring in the founding member, a female cat named Shulamith, in the 1980's.


End file.
